


I Found Myself (With You, With You)

by prosepoet



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftercare, Age Play, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Daddy Bucky, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Excessive use of petnames, Hurt/Comfort, Kink Exploration, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Slow Burn, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, little Steve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:36:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27356623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prosepoet/pseuds/prosepoet
Summary: "You don’t have to tell me anything, Im not going to ask any questions, but I meant what I said. Its ok Steve…”“I dont- I can’t say I know but…I guess? If you say so.”“I do and I think there’s a place you should check out...."*Steve is a litte. At Shield he learns to love that, and to love himself.*alternatively: Shield is a club. Bucky is a room monitor at said club. Steve is smitten with said room monitor.*idk im bad at summaries.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 26
Kudos: 102





	1. The Club

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, look who can still put words on a page! 
> 
> This story contains age-play and caregiver/little dynamics. If that is not your thing please do not tell me, just don't read it. 
> 
> While it will be mostly non-sexual there will be sexual aspects and explicit sexual content at some point. I'll put a note at the beginning of that (or those) chapter(s) in case that squicks you. 
> 
> Also Natalia is in fact Natasha in this fic, FYI.
> 
> Tags updated with each chapter. 
> 
> Hope y'all like it.

On a crisp fall day, gentle breeze rustling fallen leaves along the concrete of a busy New York City street, Steve Rogers stood before a nondescript concrete building, took a deep breath and grasped the strap of the back pack slung across his shoulder.

“C’mon Rogers. You can do this.” He mumbled to himself, stepping forward and knocking three times on the purple door. It swung open immediately and brought Steve face to face with a well dressed older man with thinning hair and a neutral expression.

“Uh, hi,” Steve stuttered, shifting on his feet and gripping his backpack strap once more. The man in the doorway didn’t return his greeting and instead raised an eyebrow with lips still pressed in an effortless line of indifference.

Steve continued, “Right, right, um.. I know how fury lost his eye?”

The man smiled and backed away from the door, gesturing for Steve to come in.

“Great. Im Phil. Welcome to Shield.”

\--

_Three Days Earlier_

“Its not what it looks like!” Steve said in a rush, panicked to the point of feeling like he may puke, or pass out, or both one right after the other. In his hand he clutched a small brown teddy bear, and at his feet lie the blue pacifier he’d just a minute ago been suckling on happily while tucked into the corner of his couch in the privacy of his apartment. His favorite blue pacifier, which he had spit out at once when his best friend Natalia stepped into his living room and called his name without him having even heard the front door opening or her approaching. The TV was playing Sofia the First, and while just a moment ago the bright music and beautiful pictures had him feeling safe and at ease, now the sounds were shrill and overstimulating. He longed to search for the remote so he could silence it or turn it off, but found he was frozen in the spot he stood by his panic.

“Steve-“

“I-its not-I don’t—“ He stammered.

“Steve--“

“I-I didn’t hear you come in. I-did we have plans today? I, oh god, I, I promise its-its”

“Steve. Stop.” The feeling of Natalia grasping his wrist firmly in her soft, strong, hand brought his stammering to an end and he hung his head in defeat, fighting back bile and embarrassment.

He’d gone 6 years carrying this secret. Since his junior year in college, when he’d huddled in his twin XL scrolling through a blog he’d discovered on Tumblr after clicking on a post titled “Things Littles Like.” He hadn’t known what that meant, hadn’t known what a “little” was, hadn’t known how the post even ended up on his dash, had only known that after reading it he’d felt something inside him stir .. _bubble baths with_ ** _lots_** _of bubbles.._ and crave _..head pats.._ and long … _being told they’re too little to do a thing, and they should let their caregiver handle it._ He’d poured over the blogs, snuggled under his blankets after especially stressful days, and imagined what it might be like to be that..to be a little… and what’s more, to have a caregiver _._

After graduating he’d ordered a pacifier and tucked it away in the very back corner of his bedside drawer only pulling it out in the deepest hours of the night when he was certain his roommates were asleep and even then only letting himself indulge for a few moments before he got too worried about someone somehow seeing him and he put it away. Eventually he’d purchased his bear-- a beautifully plush classic teddy bear, with glossy black eyes and a red bow around his neck—which had practically beckoned to him from the window of a toy store at Christmastime three years ago. The first thing he’d bought once he’d finally got his own place this year had been a soft snug onesie, emerald green with a blue, red, and yellow truck on the front. Steadily he’d been acquiring more little things, onesies and sippy cups and even a few diapers he’d bought in a sample pack but hadn’t yet had the courage to try.

He had kept it, his secret, for six years. Now here he was; caught watching toddler shows with his pacifier and his bear like a 2 year old by the best friend he thought was out of town

“Steve, look at me.” Nat said. He shrank into himself and bit back any response. “Steve, please. Look at me.”

It took everything within him to steel himself, push his heart down out of his throat and prepare himself for her disgust and rejection, but finally he was able to meet her eyes. There, he found kindness, more than she typically ever allowed anyone to see.

“Its ok.”

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but finding he had no words, closed it, and allowed himself to stare back at Natalia and wonder… “Its… ok?”

“I promise you, Steve. Its ok.”

\--

Steve stepped into the foyer and followed Phil through the small security set up where he had to send his bag through a belt scanner and step through a metal detector. 

“Are you here with anyone ?” Phil asked, pressing a doorbell beside the interior door and passing Steve his bag. Steve shook his head. “Are you interested in being approached by other patrons?”

Steve shook his head again. Phil gestured to his wrist and Steve offered it, allowing Phil to snap a thin red bangle in place.

“The red band indicates a solo patron not interested in partner play. Green bands indicate solo patrons interested in play with others. Black bands indicate closed couples and White bands indicate couples interested in thirds, or fourths or fifths, what have you.”

“Uh, ok.”

“There are signs with the band meanings posted in the main room and each themed room. Staff are dressed in black t-shirts with the shield logo on the front and back. If you decide you would like to swap your band, or if you need any other assistance, any of our staff can help you.” Just as Phil finished his spiel the interior door opened, revealing a brunette with loose curls and red lips, in loose fitting cargo pants, boots, and the aforementioned black t-shirt with the shield logo tucked in and billowing just a bit at the waist. There was what appeared to be a short whip dangling from the belt loop of her cargo pants, which Steve found incredibly intimidating, and yet also intriguing.

“This is Peggy. She’ll lead you inside and orient you to the space. Enjoy your play.”

Peggy led Steve through the black door and down a short hallway into what seemed to Steve a lot like a school gym. There was a small stage at the farthest end of the room with dark green velvet curtains currently open though no one was performing. Scattered throughout the space were several pieces of large equipment that, like Peggy’s whip, Steve found both intimidating and intriguing. The only one he could confidently identify was the St. Andrews Cross. On the left wall were several sets of lockers and what looked like a station where people could check out things like floggers, paddles, collars, and other smaller pieces of equipment or accessories. The part of the room closest to Steve held several booths covered in the same rich green velvet as the stage curtain, some benches, and a couple of bar tables where patrons stood sipping drinks and making conversation. On the right there was a bar and two doors.

“This is the main room.” Peggy started. “Performances and demonstrations are held here on the main stage. Also as you can see we have equipment for open play and areas for mingling and meeting as well as conversing and/or aftercare. To the right you’ll find our bar, we offer non alcoholic cocktails as well as juices, water, and packaged snacks. The first door on the right will lead you to our private rooms, which must be reserved at the equipment station. The second door will lead you to our themed rooms. Our most popular rooms are The Dog Park, our pet play room; The Tank, our room specifically for sensory play; and The Little Kingdom, our room for age players and caregivers. However, there are 6 rooms in total.”

Steve blinked, and swallowed, and blinked again.

“It can be overwhelming at first. Is there anywhere I can direct you?” Peggy questioned, noticing his overwhelm. He’d come here for the age play room. He’d come here with a onesie, his favorite paci, and his bear tucked into his book bag, just for the age play room. Now that he was here, though, he felt an overwhelming need to get away and the same niggling shame that had harassed him since he began indulging this particular side of himself all those years ago bloomed and brought a blush to his cheeks.

“Uh no, no thanks.”

“Very well then.” Peggy said. She offered him a welcoming smile. “Any of the staff would be happy to assist you if necessary.”

Steve stood not far from where he’d entered with Peggy, watching as she walked away and wondering what to do now. He glanced at the second door, the one that led to the themed rooms, and pulled his back pack tight to his body..

“You’ve come this far.” He told himself, in another attempt at a self pep talk. He readied himself as best he could and wandered toward the second door.

\--

Natalia offered to make them some tea, allowing Steve much needed time to recover, turn off the TV, return his bear and pacifier to their safe places, and sit on the couch attempting to process the fact that he’d been caught engaging in little activities and that his biggest secret was a secret no longer _._ After not nearly long enough she approached with two steaming cups of chamomile and sat beside him. They drank quietly for several long minutes before Nat finally broke the silence. 

“I need to apologize for walking in on something you weren’t ready to share.”

“Nat-“

“No, honestly. I am sorry for putting you in a position where something was revealed you weren’t ready to have revealed yet. That sucks. I won’t tell anyone, I know you know that I wouldn’t do that to you, but you look like you need to hear it.”

Steve knew Natalia. Knew that she was an excellent liar, but never lied about things that were important. Knew that she was his oldest friend and that she truly cared about him. Knew thathe’d gotten both an open display of kindness and an actual genuine apology from her completely unprompted, and therefore she was making an active decision to match his vulnerability with her own. He still felt off kilter and embarrassed, but he believed her.

“Ok. I-I appreciate it, Nat.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything, Im not going to ask any questions, but I meant what I said. Its _ok_ Steve…”

“I dont- I can’t say I know but…I guess? If you say so.”

“I do and I think there’s a place you should check out.” Nat told him. “Its called Shield. I’ve been with Clint a couple of times for…demonstrations. They have special rooms for different types of thematic role playing. Their age play room is really popular.”

“I don’t know, Nat...” Steve felt a familiar anxiety roll in his belly and forced himself to take a measured sip of tea.

“Its nice, its a word of mouth only place and they respect privacy and confidentiality.”

“Its not…I just…I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

Steve had never felt confident enough to venture out into the real life world of kink, fetish, BDSM and/or BDSM-adjacent activities. He’d stuck exclusively to making connections on Tumblr, where, at this point, he had his own blog for collecting posts that made him feel seen and served as fuel for his imaginative fantasies. He had a few mutuals but he didn’t talk to them, simply felt a vague sensation of camaraderie when he reblogged their posts and vis versa. Logically he knew that if there were people running blogs like his, people creating and posting content, then there must have been other littles out there. Obviously, he wasn’t the only one. Still something about seeking it out in the real world made him fearful.

He feared that he would be ridiculed, of course, and rejected. He also felt that as long as he kept his forays private and online, then perhaps they were a little less real. Perhaps the aching that he felt, the desire to feel safe and small , was just a little something that he could control as opposed to a big something roaring inside of him and threatening to break his semblance of control clean in two. He feared that in seeking out actual community with others like him--others who desired to take care of people like him—he would have to admit that there was something he needed and had needed for a long time. And once he gave himself over fully to that need, he feared he wouldn’t be able ignore it ever again.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want. But it could be a comfortable place for you to take the space you need.”

“I think I get by ok at home.”

“‘Getting by ok’ is not the same as taking the space you need.” Steve rolled his eyes. She bumped her shoulder to his playfully.“Hey, you know what’s best for you. I just want you to be able to fully express yourself, and get what you need. I…I didn’t know about this. And honestly Steve you’re not that great at keeping secrets so if I didn’t know I think its maybe because you aren’t letting yourself get into it as much as you really want to. Shield is a place you can do that if you want.”

“I-how are you being so cool about all of this?”

Natalia smirked. “You don’t know my life, _Steven_.”

Thankfully, after that, she dropped the subject, revealing that she’d actually only stopped by to let him know she was back early from her trip upstate with Clint and to see if he wanted to hang out.

“I don’t have to stay though. Do you want me to go?” She asked sincerely.

“No..no stay.” He didn’t really want to be alone.

He put on the newest episode of one of the psychodramas they watched together, but as the show played in the background, Steve thought about Shield and about the age play room. Natalia was right, he hadn’t let himself get as into it as he wanted. He spent a lot of time on the blogs, but the times he allowed himself to actually _be_ little were few and far between. He kept all his supplies in a box shoved on the top shelf of his closet, only bringing them out when he absolutely needed the comfort, and always only when he was alone in the privacy of his home.

He considered how it would feel to allow himself to, as Nat had said, take the space he needed.

“So..Shield.” Steve asked. Nat smiled.

\--

The door to the age play room was on the right hand side of the hallway, a cheery yellow with “The Little Kingdom” painted in cutesy black letters across its front, adorned with cartoony renderings of ABC blocks, a doll, and an airplane.Steve didn’t allow himself to stand before it the way he’d stood before the entrance door outside on the sidewalk, or the way he’d stood outside the second door off the main room even after his “pep talk.” Instead he grasped the handle and pushed in without hesitation.

The room was beautiful. It was big and spacious and brightly colored with pastel blue walls covered in hot air ballon decals and hanging light fixtures covered delicately in cotton to look like clouds. Along the left wall there were several cribs, large enough to hold even him in all of his 6 feet 2 inches of brick shithouse built glory. There were rocking chairs and bookshelves lined with children’s classics and modern stories. A large TV hung on the the right wall playing an episode of Sesame Street in front of which there were bean bag chairs and pillows strewn artfully across the floor and strategically placed shelves and wicker baskets holding stuffed animals, cars, dolls, and other toys. There were two tables with art supplies and in the middle of the room a large wooden fort built in the shape of a castle.

The room wasn’t packed, but there were 6 or 7 other people like him—adults in coveralls, footie pajamas, and onesies, some even in diapers—happily engaging with the space. Most had others with them, and Steve watched as one girl eagerly presented a crayon drawing to a man abound her age who beamed and stroked her hair. _Littles…and their Caregivers._ Steve’s heart ached, and he was powerless to prevent the gasp that escaped him. 

Steve found the dressing room along the back wall beside a set of cubbies and quickly dipped inside. There was a _changing table._ He huffed a breath of incredulity and took a moment to compose himself. It was like so many of the images he’d reblogged come to life. A real place, with real littles, where is was really acceptable for him to engage in the activities that made him feel safest. He was overwhelmed to say the very least, but he knew for sure—he _wanted._

He made quick work of shedding his jeans and t-shirt, folding them haphazardly and exchanging them for the green onesie in his back pack. He pulled the garment down over his head and fiddled with the between the legs snaps for a moment before getting them closed in the correct order. Once he was dressed in his onesie, he pulled his bear and paci from his bag. Part of him considered looking towards the mirror, but he thought better of it, not wanting to lose his already precarious nerve at the sight of himself.

Re-zipping his bag, Steve cracked the door to the dressing room to peak back out into the room. No one paid him any mind. In fact, no one had really even stopped to give him a second look when he’d walked in or as he’d made his way over the dressing room.

 _Now or Never,_ he thought to himself.

He stashed his bag in one of the cubbies and clung tightly to his bear as he shuffled in socked feet to a red bean bag chair beside a basket of blocks. As he settled onto the chair he could feel himself slipping into the safe space that only existed when he let himself be little. He wanted to play with the blocks, but didn’t yet feel comfortable enough, and so instead hugged his bear to his chest and made himself focus on the television screen. Elmo’s aloof friend Mr. Noodle did something ridiculous and Steve was surprised to find himself smiling and actually enjoying the show. The episode held his attention for its remaining five minutes and as the credits rolled Steve glanced around the room with new eyes, with little eyes.

There was so much to explore, so many things to play with…but he felt incredibly shy. There were all these people around that he didn’t know, and he was only accustomed to being like this when he was alone.

Steve blinked, evaluating the other patrons in the Little Kingdom, and suddenly had a new thought—the other people all seemed to be together, each little accompanied by a caregiver. Steve was surrounded by others, but as it turns out, he _was_ actually alone.

Alone in a new and devastating way.

His shyness quickly gave way to a deep and profound sadness and Steve folded in on himself and quietly began to cry.

“Hey buddy, You ok?” A voice said gently, prying Steve from his all at once overwhelming sadness. Steve tilted his head, pulling back just a bit to see a man—a very handsome man—with brown hair long enough to be tied into a messy bun, and sharp ice blue eyes evaluating Steve with concern. The man knelt in a crouch beside Steve and his black t-shirt had the Shield visibly displayed on the front like Peggy’s. His was more form fitting, highlighting the bulge of muscles in his shoulders and chest. He wore black cargo pants and boots.

For a moment Steve was overcome with the desire to hug this man with the visibly strong arms in the nearly too small shirt, but the last dregs of his adult self held him back, and instead he ducked his head back down into the comfort of his bear, shaking his head.

“My name is Bucky, I’m one of the room monitors. Do you want to tell me your name?”

He bit his trembling lip and mumbled, watery and wobbly. “Steve..”

“Nice to meet you, Steve.” Steve glanced back up at Bucky, and received a soft smile in return. “I noticed you were kinda upset, can you tell me what’s going on?”

“Sad” Steve managed, feeling tears well in fat droplets at his eyelids once again. In barely a whisper he added, “Alone.”

Bucky gave a sympathetic _tsk_ and moved from his kneeling crouch into a cross-legged seated position.

“Being sad and alone sounds overwhelming.” He said. “Would you like to play together? There’s some pretty cool blocks there in that basket.”

Steve sat up further and stared at Bucky with wide, wet eyes. He did want to play with the blocks before he got sad about being alone. Now he wasnt alone, and Bucky had offered to play with the blocks with him. He gave a shy smile, nodding eagerly.

Smiling in return Bucky grabbed the basket and turned it over to spill its contents onto the carpet. Steve sat up, wiped his eyes, and settled his bear in his lap. He had his pacifier clutched in his fist and found himself craving the comfort it would offer, but also feeling embarrassed to use it as he’d planned now that Bucky was seated across from him.

“Whatcha got there?” Bucky asked, catching on easily and nodding towards Steve’s clenched fist.

Steve blushed and opening his hand to show Bucky the paci. “Oo,“ He cooed. “I’m pretty sure pacis help with feeling sad and alone, too. Wanna give it a try?”

Steve wiggled in his seat nervously, dropping his gaze to his palm. Bucky was right, his paci would help him feel better. He still kept his eyes averted it as he plucked it from his palm and pressed it between his lips, sucking contentedly as soon as the rubber met his tongue.

“Good?” Bucky questioned. Steve nodded, blushing once again, and looked up to meet Bucky’s face and reassuring smile. “That’s good.”

Bucky and Steve built and rebuilt with the blocks for the better part of an hour. Steve had giggled fiercely when Bucky sent each structure crashing to the ground with wiggling fingers and playful snarls.

Thirty minutes in the Sofia the First theme song had caught Steve’s attention and he’d pointed excitedly at the television, bouncing excitedly in his spot. Sofia was his most favorite show.

“You like this show?” Bucky had asked. Steve’d nodded enthusiastically, grinning around his pacifier. Bucky had only smiled back, and turned watch patiently.

They were currently taking turns stacking blocks, each stacking a wooden block on top of the one the other had just placed until they had a little tower about 12 blocks high. Each turn Steve rifled through the blocks looking for the blue ones. Blue was his most favorite color. 

“Bwue?” He asked around his mouthful of paci, his first words since they’d started.

“I don’t think there’s any more blue, buddy.” Bucky said apologetically. “Want to start over?”

Steve shook his head absently. Hearing his own voice soft and high and mispronouncing the word blue, he felt the edges of reality pressing back in, pulling him back into his adult mind a little too quickly, a little too harshly. 

Typically, when he was at home and he took the time to indulge his little side, he’d end up falling asleep watching cartoons and when he woke up he was himself again. Now though, he felt the unease that came with resurfacing, with passing the reigns back to a part of him that was much more attuned to the judgement and danger and solitude and responsibility that existed in the world. It made anxiety burn in his chest.

He snatched his paci from his mouth and exhaled heavily.

“Hey Steve, you ok?” Buck asked. Steve’s cheeks flamed, and he blushed all the way up to the tips of his ears. Not a shy, timid dusting of pink, but an embarrassed self-loathing staining of crimson. He felt like almost the same way he’d felt when Natalia had caught him in his living room, only the knowledge that he had brought himself here to purposefully engage this part of himself somehow made him feel worse. All the different parts of himself were warring for control of this current situation. The little that still wanted to feel safe and happy, the adult that had hidden in shame for 6 years who wanted to run and hide, the part of him that had wanted to be brave and try something new who now needs desperately to know if he’d made the right decision.

“Steve, can you hear me?” Bucky’s pressed, “Hey Steve, listen, you’re ok. Its ok.”

Steve hadn’t realized, but he’d curled in on himself once again, squeezing his eyes closed tight against the onslaught of emotion.

“You’re ok, Steve. You’re just coming up. Is it ok if I touch you?”Steve gave a shaky nod, and Bucky slid closer to wrap an arm around his hunched shoulders and tilt him so he was leaning on that broad, muscled chest. Steve pressed in greedily, allowing himself one small nuzzle against Bucky’s sternum. 

“You’re safe, I promise. We’re just gonna sit right here until you feel ok. We’re gonna make sure you come up just fine and then get you some water or juice.” Bucky told him. “You were so brave to come here today all by yourself, huh?”

Reassurance settled deep into Steve’s bones and he gasped. “Brave?”

“Thats right,” Bucky said, “So brave, little one. You did a good thing for yourself even when it was scary.”

Steve nodded. He..he _was_ brave. He came here for himself and that was brave and he did good, like Bucky said.

“You’re so good, aren’t you?”

“M’good.” Steve answered, pressing his face further into Bucky’s chest and clinging to his shield t-shirt.

“You sure are. And guess what? When you come up you’ll still be good. And you’ll still be safe right here. I gotya, ok? We’re right here together.”

Steve nodded again. It was ok. Bucky was there. Bucky who saw him crying, and played blocks and watched Sofia with him. Bucky who held him now, rocking just a little, and didn’t hold an ounce of judgement in his tone.

“Just the sweetest thing.” Bucky continued in a murmur. “Its ok Stevie. You’ve got all the time you need, ok? No rush. C’mon back when you’re ready. Its ok.” 

Steve could do it, he could come up. He was good. He was safe.

He blinked and blinked again.

“You with me, Steve?”

“I- yea, sorry.” Steve shook his head and moved reluctantly out of Bucky’s space.

“Don’t be. The room monitors are here to make sure everyone has a good experience.”

 _Right_ , Steve thought, relishing in the phantom feeling of being tucked close against Bucky’s chest. _Bucky was just doing his job._

 _“_ I-Im gonna get changed, I mean, gonna, um, y’kno, put my regular clothes back on?”

“Yea, of course. Here, let me help you up.” Bucky stood, offering Steve a hand and pulling him up easily. He ushered Steve back towards the dressing room with a hand hovering over the small of his back and gave him a smile. “Take your time, yea? Im gonna grab you a bottle of water.”

Steve redressed in his jeans and t-shirt and tucked his onesie, pacifier, and bear back into his backpack. Clutching his bag, he evaluated how he was feeling.

There was embarrassment for sure, but it was less present than it typically was when he woke up after having fallen asleep watching cartoons and snuggling his bear on the couch. During those times he always felt shameful, despite how comforting it had been. Now, though, the feelings of safety and happiness he got from his little space lingered. He felt calmer and more at peace.

He ventured to the mirror and took in his reflection. His shoulders weren’t crunched up towards his ears, his spine wasn’t held hunched over protectively, and he wasn’t clenching his teeth and locking his jaw the way he normally did. He felt good. He looked good. Confident.

 _So brave, little one._ Bucky’s voice replayed in his ear. He looked away from the mirror with a disbelieving chuckle, feeling the heat of his blush. He didn’t feel embarrassment at the words though—or, not only that. It felt reassuring. He liked it. Liked hearing it when Bucky had said it initially and liked remembering it.

Steve shook his head, stepped away from the mirror and out of the dressing room. Bucky stood to the left by the cubbies chatting with a pale, dark-haired girl in glasses who was wearing the Shield t-shirt along with a maroon leather skirt, not-quite-opaque black tights and clunky boots. Bucky noticed him emerge and smiled at the girl, giving her a “one minute” finger before coming over to Steve.

Little Steve had recognized Bucky as handsome but Big Steve could only describe Bucky as absolutely stunning. Standing the breadth of him was more obvious than when he was crouching or sitting on the floor. He was just as wide across the chest as Steve was but had a thicker waist and, _Jesus the Christ,_ even thicker thighs. His bone structure was immaculate, a strong jawline and present cheekbones. The bottom half of his face was speckled with the dark hair of his five-o-clock shadow.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” He asked, handing over the cool bottle of water he’d promised.

“Im..ah..I’m alright. Thanks. Sorry I sorta pulled you away from the other patrons.”

“Don’t mention it, Darcy had it covered. Helpful, I hope?”

“No, yea, it was. It helped. You’re really good at, um, it.” Steve dropped his gaze to the ground, fighting the urge to face palm. 

Bucky chuckled. “Good to know.”

“Right, so Im just gonna-” Steve gestured towards the door.

“Sure. Hey, drink the water, ok? It’ll help with the come up.”

“Yea, yea I will.”

“And come back and see us. Mondays and Tuesdays are slower days if that makes you more comfortable.” Steve wondered if Bucky worked the Little Kingdom on Mondays and Tuesdays. _That_ would definitely make him more comfortable. He blushed at the thought.

“Yea, ok.”

Bucky smiled. “Great, maybe I’ll see you then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, I struggle to write in consistent verb tense, nice to meet you. 
> 
> leave comments, lmk what you think!


	2. the lunch lull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has the Little Kingdom all to himself...mostly.

Bright fluorescent light and the unrepentant cheer of an 80’s pop song he couldn’t recall the name of met Steve and the contents of his cart in the infant aisle of a generic drugstore.

He grabbed a bottle of gentle bedtime bath wash, classic scent baby lotion, and an organic talc-free powder and tossed them into his cart. Twisting his hands and biting his lip he considered the Mr. Bubble blueberry bubble bath and with an eye roll at himself, added that to his cart as well.

At the register he unloaded his items—the bath supplies, a bag of frozen Dino nuggets, one carton of pre-cut assorted fruit, and a bottle of strawberry syrup.

“Aw, fun night for your little one, huh?” The cashier chirped with a bright smile.

Steve huffed, and by the power of all things merciful managed not to blush. “Yea, something like that.”

—

_Five Days Earlier_

“Hey! Steve, right? Nice to see you again.” Bucky greeted him, looking up from the conversation he and Darcy were having leaned against the castle fort in the middle of the Little Kingdom.

Entering the space, Steve was just as moved as he had been the first time, enraptured with the delicately vibrant color scheme and various options for little play. He was also happy to see Bucky was the room monitor again and pleasantly surprised that Bucky remembered him.

“Yea, Steve. Nice to see you too—uh I mean—” Steve paused, scratching the back of his neck and clearing his throat. “Bucky, right? and uh, Darcy? I don’t think we actually met.” 

It had been a little over a week since Steve’s first trip to Shield—he’d wanted to come back earlier but a difficult commission had kept him occupied the previous Monday and Tuesday and he hadn’t been brave enough to come back on one of the busier days. Still, at least once a day over the past week he’d found himself thinking about his experience at Shield and how it differed from all his other experiences with little space. He’d thought about how nice it was to play in a space designed for play as opposed to in a space, like his apartment, where his little things clashed with the grown-up design. He’d thought about how affirming it had felt to see other littles in real life for the first time, even though the thought of them with their caregivers while he himself didn’t have one still made his heart ache. He’d thought about how it felt to sink down into that floaty innocent space in his mind and to come back up again without the strong and persistent shame and embarrassment he typically felt afterwards.

And despite his efforts not to he’d thought about Bucky.About how easily he’d sat with him and played with blocks. About how content he’d seemed to actually watch Sofia alongside Steve, just because Steve liked it. About his voice, gentle and soothing, murmuring _so brave, little one_ and _you’re so good, aren’t you?_ and _just the sweetest thing._

“Yep, thats me.” Darcy waved. “Looks like you got the room all to yourself today. Think you caught the lunch lull.”

“Oh…”

Steve glanced around, noticing for the first time that aside from Bucky and Darcy the room was empty. The thought of having the both of them there watching him made him feel oddly exposed, like an animal in a zoo. Bucky seemed to notice his discomfort easily, just as he had with the pacifier during Steve’s first visit.

“I know it can feel a little weird when you’re the only one.” He began softly, “We can hang out on the back wall if you want.”

“Its fine. I mean, um, whatever you usually do.”

“What would make you most comfortable?”

The gentleness in his tone made Steve blush, and he fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “Just feels like, um, like a lot, I guess. With the two of you…”

“Well,” Darcy said, “I was thinking about going to grab a snack. I could take a break in the main room if you’re alright here with just Bucky?”

“Yea, I- I think that would be ok…”

In the dressing room Steve traded his jeans and t shirt for a onesie—white with baby blue and pastel green stripes. Though he hadn’t been able to make it to Shield last week he had spent some time purchasing more things online like the blue clip for his pacifier he attached to his top. He’d also gotten ta pair of light wash denim short overalls after considering how bare he’d felt in just his onesie the last time. He pulled the shorts up over his onesie, reveling in the way the denim, despite its newness, felt soft and well-worn against his skin. The shorts cut off around his mid thigh and he looked down his legs, wiggling his toes in white socks and allowing himself to feel the beginnings of little space that came with the change in attire. He hugged his bear to his chest and made his way back out to where, for today, his very own little kingdom awaited.

Bucky smiled as Steve re-entered the room.

“All good?” He asked, placing a few toys cars back in their assigned basket. Steve nodded. “Alright, Im just gonna tidy up a bit. Let me know if you need anything.” 

Steve decided to start his time at the art table. As he settled into his seat he noticed Sofia was playing on the television. He couldn’t help but wonder if it had been next up in the queue or if Bucky had put it on just for him. He hummed along, rifling through a cup of crayons and letting himself relax into it. To his delight there were several different shades of blue and he took them gleefully to his white paper without a certain plan for what his drawing would be.

Thirty minutes passed easily. Sofia continued to play in the background, bolstering Steve’s confidence in the idea that Bucky had deviated from whatever random playlist they typically showed, and deliberately put on Steve’s favorite show.The thought of Bucky doing something just for him—something he remembered Steve liked, something that would make him happy—ignited a warm bubbly feeling in his chest. A feeling of being cared for, even in a small and arguably insignificant way. The feeling made him want to giggle and bounce and nuzzle his head under Bucky’s chin happily.

He wondered what it would feel like to have someone look after him. Someone bringing him his bear and his pacifier, instead of him getting it on his own. Someone fixing him little snacks and running baths for him and picking out his onesies and outfits. It was something he’d thought about on more than one occasion but always vaguely and never for long. For one, he always felt the pain of longing in an especially visceral way when it crossed his mind, any thoughts of what could be overtaken by the overwhelming sense of lack at present circumstances. Mostly though he was consistently too caught up in trying to work out his own relationship with being a little to really consider what it would be and look like to share that with someone else.

Now, though, he allowed himself to imagine it. All the feelings he got from his little space amplified by additional feelings—being seen and protected, cherished and loved. He imagined the person seeing, protecting, cherishing, and loving him was Bucky. Bucky who’d put on his favorite show. Bucky who’s voice echoed again in his ear, _I gotya, ok? I’m right here with you._ Steve desired deeply to be had.

With that desire he eagerly finished his drawing, which had become a big blue butterfly perched on a flower, and pushed back out of his chair. It took only a quick glance around for him to locate Bucky on the other side of the room with his back turned re-shelving books. He toddled over, bit his lip shyly and tugged on the bottom of the man’s shirt. Bucky turned to him with a look of gentle concern.

“Hey buddy, everything ok?” He asked. Steve nodded and thrust the picture into Bucky’s empty hand without preamble. Bucky’s brow furrowed for a moment, but smoothed into a look of approval as he took in Steve’s drawing. “Look at that! What a pretty butterfly. Great job!”

He preened under Bucky’s praises, feeling the joy ripple through him and spill onto his face in both a grin and a blush. Bucky gave Steve a brilliant smile of his own, but when he made to pass the drawing back Steve shook his head.

“You don’t want it?”

Steve let his pacifier drop from his mouth as he answered, “For you.” 

The timbre of his voice, delicate and childish, still sounded foreign to his ears but not enough to distract him from the shift in Bucky’s smile, from wide and brilliant to soft and fond.

 _“_ For me? Thats awfully sweet of you, Stevie.” Steve nodded and Bucky chuckled, amused. “Of course, because you’re the sweetest little thing, hm?”

To Steve’s absolute delight Bucky reached out and ruffled his hair playfully, eliciting giggles. What’s more, after the short tousle Bucky’s hand lingered tangled in the short strands of Steve’s hair. Unable to resist the urge Steve pushed up into the pressure, and was pleased when Bucky gave his scalp a gentle scratch. The contact lasted but a moment and a tiny whine fell from Steve’s lips as Bucky pulled his hand away. Giving a tsk at the sound, Bucky plucked Steve’s pacifier from where it dangled from his paci clip at his chest and placed it gently at the part of Steve’s lips. Steve accepted it without protest, gazing wondrously into Bucky’s eyes and finding them shone with more of the fondness from his smile a moment ago.

“There you go.” Bucky all but whispered, and again he lingered, fingers holding the ring of Steve’s pacifier as Steve suckled.

And then Bucky seemed to remember himself and, drawn out of whatever reverie had overcome him, he dropped his hand, averted his gaze, and cleared his throat quickly. When he turned back to Steve he was smiling again, but whatever fondness Steve had seen had been schooled away.

“Whatdya say we go color a picture for you to take home?”

—

Steve carried his drugstore bags over his kitchen counter and carefully unloaded their contents.

Since his trips to Shield he’d felt like a door had been opened and he’d stepped into a commitment to actually allowing himself to _be_ a little, instead of _desiring_ to be a little but holding himself back, restricting and limiting and hesitating. Now that he had taken that step he wanted to explore, to allow himself to do things he’d only dreamed about wistfully in the past. And while Shield’s Little Kingdom was quite literally a picture straight out of his littlest fantasies, there were some things his apartment offered that the age play room did not.

Namely, a bathtub. Because his plan for the night revolved around one thing he’d wanted to do since first reading that post 6 years ago—taking a nice long bubble bath. He was going to fill his tub with as many bubbles as he could possibly fit without making a complete mess of the entire bathroom floor and he was going to splash and play and soak until his fingers and toes were all pruney; until the scent of lavender bath wash and blueberry bubbles lingered on his skin.

He set his oven to preheat and arranged 10 nuggets on a baking sheet, leaving them on top of the stove as he grabbed his bath supplies and headed for his room. There, he laid everything out on the bed and went to his closet to get the box of little things that had migrated from shoved out of sight on the top shelf to more conveniently placed on the floor by the closet’s entrance.

From his box he selected one of his new onesies—a pastel blue number smattered with little light yellow stars and crescent moons—his one sippy cup— lavender and baby blue silicone on the bottom and the grips and a cute scene of light forest creatures at night decorating the clear plastic—and his favorite pacifier. He grabbed his bear as well, setting him up among the mini mountain of pillows Nat always teased him about.

As he transported everything he needed for his bath to the en suite, his mind drifted back to Monday…to Bucky. It had been almost impossible to _not_ think about Bucky the past five days, even more so than it had been after his first visit to Shield. After the first visit his thoughts of Bucky had simply been memories, remembering how Bucky’s actions made him feel, remembering how Bucky’s words had impacted him. Now, though, alongside the memories he found himself thinking in hypotheticals _._ He’d remember the feeling of Bucky’s hand on his head and wonder how that hand would feel petting his hair while his head was laid in Bucky’s lap _._ He’d remember Bucky’s praise about his picture and think of all the other things Bucky might praise him for. He’d hear Bucky calling him _just the sweetest little thing_ and wonder if Bucky would also call him precious, or sweetheart, or _baby boy._

The worst, by far, was remembering how Bucky had taken care of him and thinking _what would it be like if Bucky was always the one to take care of him? What would it be like if Bucky were….his daddy?_

That’s exactly what his thoughts we asking as he set his things up in the bathroom. What it would be like for Bucky to do this for him. Because he wanted to, because he was taking care of Steve. And like he did each time the daydreaming began, Steve shook his head and forced himself to think about something else. Working at Shield was Bucky’s _job_ , helping the littles in the age play room was Bucky’s _responsibility as a part of his_ ** _job._** Steve didn’t want to stop going to the little kingdom, and he definitely didn’t want to make Bucky uncomfortable, and he knew that if he didn’t get control of these thoughts of Bucky he would end up doing one, or possibly both, of those things.

So he shook his head and told himself firmly: no. Bucky is not…that. Not your daddy.

And like it did each time Steve forcefully shut down his daydreaming, his heart ached.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, these bruises? i got 'em fighting with literally every part of this chapter.
> 
> leave comments, lmk what you think!


	3. the drop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve tries to get his mind off Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: bad BDSM practices, ignored safe words, thought spiraling/negative self talk. check endnotes for more.
> 
> (some angst. hurt/comfort)

It was a Friday night and Shield’s main room was alive. The steady hum of chatter mimicked that of a night club only with the beat of music replaced by the cracking of paddles against bare skin and the bellows of moaning patrons.

Steve sat at the back of the room, tucked into a booth with his bag on his lap trying to manage his anxiety. The green suede tickled his hands as ran his fingers back and forth against the seat. He took a sip of his drink and checked his phone. No new messages. He huffed and picked at the black band on his wrist.

It was 15 minutes past the time they’d agreed to meet and Steve was considering just leaving when the man he’d been waiting for slid Into the booth across from him. The man gave him a once over thorough enough to make Steve’s stomach roll. He forced down the urge to squirm under the gaze.

“Steve?”

“Yea, Im Steve.”

The man smiled, a salacious grin. “Im Brock.”

—

Though he’d tried to ward off the thought, the entire night of his solo little time at home, he’d thought of Bucky. It was easier to ignore the pang in his heart when he was his clearheaded adult self. But as soon as he’d sank down into little space that face and that fond smile had appeared in his mind’s eye.

As he ate his Dino nuggets, splashed in the in the tub, and fell asleep curled under his blanket watching Sofia, he’d pretended he was doing those thing with a Daddy…with _his_ Daddy. And he’d imagined that Daddy was Bucky.

That morning he’d felt ill with guilt, and had frantically texted Nat with an inquiry about how people found…playmates.

She’d suggested a website— _fetlife._

At lunch he’d made a profile, uploaded a couple of pictures that didn’t include his face, and wrote a short message in his “about me,’ before going on to a few NYC groups. He’d found it overwhelming trying to peruse the profiles of all the various ‘kinksters’ and had eventually posting his own ISO in a “LGBT CG/l” group.

> _bisexual boy ISO Daddy in NYC. no gender preference._

For a moment he’d been concerned his message was too vague, but ultimately he’d posted it anyway.

That night, he returned to FetLife to find almost 20 messages in his inbox. Many were either very aggressive or highly explicit, and he deleted those immediately. Several were just variations of “Hey,” and he responded in kind. One stood out though:

“ _Hey there. Saw your ISO. Name’s Brock. Your profile is pretty cute. I’d be interested in setting up a playdate, if you are. My number is..”_

Steve clicked though Brock’s profile…he was handsome. Dark and stubbly. A little older. Fit but lean, not stacked in the way Steve himself was. He didn’t have much in his profile aside from some sort of results from a quiz site, but he’d been the only one to mention the potential of meeting up, which was precisely what Steve was looking for. He typed Brock’s number carefully into his phone:

_8:42 PM: Hey, its Steve…_

_—_

Darcy waved as Steve and Brock entered the Little Kingdom and headed towards the dressing room, and Steve noticed that the monitor accompanying her today wasn’t Bucky, but a rugged and muscly blonde, with a trim beard and long hair pulled into a half ponytail. He didn’t know why he felt disappointed—the entire reason he was here with Brock in the first place was to get his mind _off_ Bucky.

Brock waited for Steve outside the dressing room and Steve found himself unsure about what Brock’s response to him in his footed pajamas—white with blue green and red dinosaurs—would be. His unsurety grew at the seemingly amused smile that Brock gave, and again something unpleasant rattled around in Steve’s gut. It felt as if Brock might be laughing at him, but Steve assured himself that that couldn’t be the case. They’d agreed on this, he reminded himself internally, and if Brock had thought the little caregiver dynamic was something to be made fun of, he wouldn’t have agreed to meet with Steve. Still, he hugged his bear closer to his chest for comfort.

“What’d you want to do in here?” Brock asked. Steve glanced around. There were several other couples in the Little Kingdom currently, including one Steve recognized from his first visit: a little with long red hair and wide grey eyes and, presumably, her caregiver, a man with a strong brow and feathery croppedhair. Most of the areas towards the front were occupied, but Steve noticed there wasn’t anyone in the castle fort currently.

“Um..” He started, and pointed towards the fort. “Maybe there?”

“Lead the way, champ.”

Steve blushed at the nickname. It wasn’t one of his favorites, but it aided in easing the anxiety he felt about his chosen play partner for the night.

The inside of the fort was stunning. Fairy lights cast the space in a warm hue, a couple of baskets of toys were tucked into two of the interior corners, and a fluffy red rug spread across the floor of the space. There were two bean bag chairs, one blue and the other yellow, and a short staircase that led up to a second level. It wasn’t especially large, but Steve could stand at his full height with his head only just brushing the ceiling. He loved it and quickly felt little space replacing all of his previous worries and concerns.

Behind him, Steve heard Brock mumble unintelligibly under his breath, but found himself ignoring it in favor of flopping down on the blue bean bag chair and dragging over the basket filled with toy trucks. He held one out eagerly to Brock, wiggling excitedly in his seat.

“Aw you want to play with trucks?” Brock cooed, and again Steve struggled to read him. He couldn’t help but compare the man to Bucky, and in doing so recognized that where Bucky’s coos were interested and comforting, Brock’s felt mocking. Brock continued. “You really are just a dumb baby, huh?”

Steve blinked, his heart stuttering in his chest. He didn’t like that. He swallowed past the sudden tightness in his throat, managing a meek response.“M’not dumb.”

“I don’t know, seems like you are to me. Are you just a stupid baby, Steve?”

Steve shook his head as shame filled him. He felt sick to his stomach. This wasn’t the kind of play he wanted, it wasn’t what he enjoyed. He’d held so much shame about his littleness for so long, and Brock’s words brought those feelings roaring to the front of his mind. His stuttering heart began to pound, it felt like the walls of the fort were closing in on him.

“Y-yellow, yellow.“ He tried.

Brock’s demeanor changed and he scoffed. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Steve winced at the harshness in Brock’s tone. He couldn’t explain what it meant, too afraid and too overwhelmed and far too embarrassed.

“I- I- I need to go. I need to go.” He got quickly to his feet and moved to brush past Brock and out of the fort, but Brock grabbed him tightly by the elbow.

“Don’t walk away from me when I’m talking to you.” He bit.

“Don’t touch me!” Steve bit back, his fear and trepidation giving way to a white hot rage. He snatched his arm from Brock’s grip and managed to use his own bulk to get around the man, such that he was able to get out the door of the fort before Brock reached out again. This time he caught the arm of Steve’s bear.

“What’s your deal?” He demanded with a tug.

“Let go!”

“I don’t know if you know how this works but Im the one in charge, big guy.”

“I don’t want to play with you anymore!”

“Stop making a scene.”

“Let go!”

“Fuckin’ brat!” The sound of ripped stitching met Steve’s ear, and he watched in devastation as Brock’s harsh tug tore the arm straight from his bear.

His heart dropped like lead to the pit of his stomach and all the fight he’d mustered drained out of him. In one moment he was gasping and in the next he was crumpled into a heap on the floor. Feelings of emptiness and sadness and shock permeated his entire body.

He didn’t notice Darcy and the not-Bucky room monitor approaching. He didn’t notice the red head with the wide grey eyes and her caregiver come over and tell both monitors that Brock had been being belligerent. He didn’t notice Brock’s incensed protests as not-Bucky took him by the upper arm and forced him out of the room. He didn’t even notice Darcy as she knelt in front of him. He was lost in a fog.

He felt hollow, like his insides had been carved out by experiencing such immense feelings of shame and fear and rage and sorrow in such a short period of time. He _was_ dumb. His bear was his most favorite thing and now it was broken. Because of him. Because he was too dumb to even take care of his most cherished possession.

“Steve, Steve I need you to look at me, bud.”

Too trusting, always letting his naiveté get him in situations he shouldn’t be in. Dumb enough to meet up with someone who he was obviously not compatible with, and then ignore all the gut feelings telling him it was a bad idea. He deserved exactly what he got.

“You’re dropping pretty bad, Steve. I need you to come up for me, just a little.”

So desperate for affection that he couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky, an _employee_ at the playroom he frequented because he was a _freak._ He should be ashamed of himself. For being smitten by a few touches and a couple of glances and the kindness of a person doing his job. For being so gone on a man he barely knew. For letting his _senseless crush_ get him into this situation.

“Thor, we’re gonna have to call someone.”

He _was_ stupid. A stupid baby. Because still, all he wanted was Bucky. Even now that he’d been flayed, and his dumb, stupid, freak baby nature had been exposed to the open air, he couldn’t stop wanting Bucky.

“Bucky.” He whimpered, folding in on himself further. 

“Hey bud, I’m really glad to hear your voice.” Darcy sighed in relief. “We can get Bucky for you, no problem. He’s right down the hall monitoring another room.”

Steve whined deep in his chest. He was being selfish. Taking up too much space, taking up Darcy’s time, and now taking Bucky away from his duties. He hadn’t even meant to call for him out loud.

“Shh, its ok. Im gonna send Thor to switch places with him. Just hold tight for me.”

He didn’t notice Darcy giving orders to not-Bucky. He didn’t notice the red head fixing her wide grey eyes on him sympathetically. He didn’t notice the door swinging open and closed as someone exited and then against as someone entered. There was nothing but the fog and his anguish.

And then,

“Hey Stevie,”

there was Bucky.

*

Steve raised his head just to confirm for himself that he wasn’t hallucinating. He wasn’t. Bucky knelt before him, his hair twisted into his signature messy bun, his piercing blue eyes caring and concerned, his lips turned down slightly in a sympathetic pout. Steve blinked, doe-eyed and frozen, and Bucky extended a hand to him with a gentle smile.

“C’mere sweetheart.”

Steve fumbled his way clumsily out of his crumpled pose of defeat and all but lunged into Bucky’s arms as the sob that had been brewing within him finally bubbled up and out. Bucky caught him easily without even a flinch, winding one arm tightly around his waist and using his other hand to cradle Steve’s head against his shoulder.

“Hey there, sugar. Its ok. You’re safe. I got you.” Heaving sobs wracked their way through Steve’s chest. Bucky rubbed his back in soothing circles and nuzzled his cheek into the top of Steve’s head. “You cry all you need to, little one. Get it all out, Im right here.”

Steve bawled until his loud sobs turned to silent weeps turned to intermittent sniffles. When he was all cried out he sat back on his haunches, Bucky loosening his grip just enough to allow him to do so.

“M’sorry.” Steve mumbled. Bucky used his index finger to lift Steve’s hung head.

“There you are.” He murmured, wiping the stray tears from beneath Steve’s bottom lashes. Steve shivered at the sensation of Bucky’s thumbs, the juxtaposition between the roughness of his calloused hands and the tenderness of his touch. “You listen to me real careful, ok? You got _nothing_ to apologize for.”

Steve wanted to argue. He did need to apologize, for taking Bucky away from his monitoring. For crying all over him. For having inappropriate feelings towards him, especially. Yet, tiredness sunk down into his bones and he found he just didn’t have the energy. He let himself believe it. Let himself believe that if Bucky said so it must be true, and gave no thought to how incredulous that sounded even to him.

“Tired, huh?” Bucky asked. Steve nodded. “C’mon, lets go sit.”

Darcy had managed to refocus the other patrons and everyone had mostly gone back to their own play. A couple of people spared glances, but none held judgement only understanding and empathy. Bucky held Steve close to his body, taking most of his weight as he led them back to the rocking chairs. He chose a rocker near the corner and drug it a few feet away from the others before settling in, pulling Steve down into his lap and adjusting him so he was pressed against Bucky’s chest with his legs thrown over one arm of the chair.

Steve snuggled deep into Bucky’s arms, clutching Bucky’s t shirt and still holding tight to his armless bear. When he was satisfied with his position, glommed to Bucky as much as he could be, he sighed deeply—finally releasing the breath that had been stuck in his chest since the word dumb fell from Brock’s lips.

“Good breath.” Bucky praised. Steve nodded and felt pressure of Bucky’s chin against the top of his head as he nodded in return. They sat there like that for a moment. Steve allowing himself to be held, because he was tired, because it felt good. Bucky used a foot to gently rock them back and forth and ran a comforting hand up and down Steve’s back to the rhythm of the chair’s rocking.

“Do you know what sub drop is, sweetheart?” He asked eventually.

Steve shook his head. Bucky hummed.

“You know how it feels good in your body when you’re little?”

A nod.

“Well, a part of that is because when you go to that little space your body releases lots of feel good chemicals. It happens with other types of play too, people call it subspace.”

Another nod.

“Sometimes, once those good feelings go away you can feel pretty icky. It can make you have a lot of different emotions and it can also make you achey and tired, like you’re sick. We call that sub drop.

It can happen after any scene, but its more likely to happen when things are really intense, when you don’t have the right aftercare, or when you come up too quickly.”

“I’m..sub..drop?” Steve mumbled, considering how accurately that described the way he currently felt.

“Yea, little one, I think you had a drop.” Bucky ran his fingers gently through Steve’s hair. “Darcy told me about what she and some other folks saw. How you and the guy you were with were having a disagreement. He was pulling on your bear and ripped his arm?”

Steve whimpered just thinking about it. Bucky’s arms tightened around him with a tsk.

“I know, I know. I bet that made you feel really sad, huh?” Bucky cooed. That caring, genuine coo that was so different from the patronizing, mocking one Brock had given. Steve gave a small affirmative sound. “I’m real sorry that happened, sweetheart…Do you wanna tell me what happened before that?”

Steve whined.

“Its ok” Bucky quieted gently. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I only want to know because it could help me take care of you better right now. If you don’t want to talk about it, though, we won’t, ok?”

“If..if I don’t..w-will you…leave?”

“Oh, Stevie… No, sweetheart. I won’t leave unless you want me to, darlin’.”

As a moment of quiet passed, Steve reveling in the safety of being close to Bucky, and Bucky stroking his hair, and scratching his scalp, and rocking them gently in the rocking chair, Steve realized he wanted to tell Bucky. He wanted a counter narrative to the thoughts his short experience with Brock had brought up, and he knew Bucky would offer just that.

“He—he said..he said I was dumb…dumb stupid baby.” Steve whispered. He felt Bucky’s body tense just the slightest beneath him before relaxing again.

“You didn’t like that?”

“m’not dumb,” Steve shook his head fiercely, “m’just…just little. I said yellow. We—we agreed..colors. I said yellow.”

“Good job. Thats real good, Stevie, that you used your colors.”

“He said… _what the fuck is that supposed to mean.”_ Steve mimicked Brock’s tone, and as a ghost of the anger he’d felt in that moment washed over him, the words began to come all in a rush. “I- I wanted to leave. I didn’t feel good. I-I tried to. I _said._ I said I needed to go and I tried to leave and-and he _grabbed_ me. I got mad. I pulled away and he…he grabbed my bear and we were arguin’ and-and he said I was…he said _fuckin brat_ and he pulled my bear’s arm off!”

Steve noticed that Bucky, with a sharp intake of breath, had gone tense again, still and rigid. He seemed mad. Was he mad at Steve? Steve didn’t want Bucky to be mad at him. He wouldn’t be able to handle it if Bucky were mad at him. He curled in further, pressing himself into Bucky’s chest with a whimper. At Steve’s mournful sound Buck relaxed, resuming his petting and rocking.

“Im sorry,” He said, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Im really grateful that you told me. I don’t like that he ignored your yellow, or that he grabbed you. Hearing that just made me…a little angry. Not at you though, ok?” 

“Not mad?”

“No, doll, I promise Im not mad at you.” Buck assured. “That guy was wrong, he shouldn’t have treated you that way. He definitely should have respected your yellow signal and checked in and he _for damn sure_ should not have put his hands on you or tried to stop you from getting away after that.”

“Bad daddy?”

“Yea, he was. And you did so good by sticking up for yourself, saying what you needed, and getting away. Im real proud of you, Stevie.”

Steve preened.

“did good?”

“So good, baby.” Steve shivered, full body from head to toe. “You are not any of those things he said you were, ok? You are the sweetest thing on god’s green earth.”

Bucky squeezed him tight, “So very smart, and brave, and clever.”

Assurance and comfort engulfed him. What’s more, he felt himself slipping out of the headspace he’d been stuck in—between little and big—and back into the safety of little space. He didn’t know if Bucky had put him down intentionally, but he found he couldn’t resist it, not with Bucky being so reassuring, and cuddling him, and calling him _baby_. Come to think of it, Bucky had been calling him the most wonderful things all night, sweetheart, and little one, and sugar, and darlin’, and doll. Steve swooned, sinking down deeper.

“You took care of yourself so well, sweetheart. You can rest now now, though. I got it from here, ok?”

Steve nodded. He didn’t need to conjure up any more energy to try and protect himself. He did good, and he was safe now. Bucky was taking care of him. Betwixt the comfort of Bucky’s words and warmth and the soothing feeling of Bucky’s hands alongside the steady motion of the rocking chair, the last dregs of Steve’s emotional drop faded away.

Steve nuzzled into Bucky’s chest, floating and happy. “Good Daddy.”

“Im glad you think so, sugar.” Bucky chuckled and offered Steve the paci hanging from the collar of his pajama’s. Steve accepted easily, but before Bucky could pull his hand back, Steve tangled it with his own and cuddled it close to his chest.

He forced his heavy lids apart and blinked up at Bucky sleepily, voluntarily making eye contact for the first time that evening. Staring down at Steve in return, Bucky stroked the back of his hand softly. He brought Steve’s hand to his lips and brushed them against Steve’s knuckles, smiling that fond smile Steve had been dreaming about.

“Rest, baby.”

Surrounded by the high of hearing that word again, the high of being with Bucky, Steve cuddled his bear on one side, Bucky’s hand on the other and allowed sleepiness to settle in. Eyes closed and already beginning to doze, he just barely heard Bucky’s reverent, whispered voice,

“Daddy’s got you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'll take "Everyone's Favorite Scapegoat: Brock Rumlow" for $600, Alex.
> 
> leave comments, lmk what you think!
> 
> CW expanded:  
> -Steve meets someone online and goes to Shield with them without proper kink negotiation  
> -Steve uses "yellow" to signal needing to pause and Brock ignores him/responds in a hostile manner  
> -Steve refers to himself as dumb and stupid/generally is not nice to himself while experiencing sub drop


	4. the munch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> introducing Bucky POV.

Warmth beat over Bucky’s face as he sat in a perfectly sunny spot at an outdoor table for brunch, surrounded by a few friends and several strangers. Wanda and Vis had taken to bickering playfully, as was often the case when they weren’t busy making love eyes at each other. Bucky was amused by their old married couple-esque antics, if a little envious of their obvious connection. Envy aside, however, both the warmth and the company were serving him well after a week of being wound up and irritable, and he found himself settling back into his seat, feeling the tension seep a little more out of his body.

As the chatter, laughter, and playful bickering continued, movement in his peripheral and the prospect of a mimosa had him glancing over his shoulder at who he hoped was their server approaching to take drink orders.

Instead, he was met with the very source of his previous week’s frustrations, in all his well-fitting denim, too-tight t-shirt, well worn leather jacket, golden blonde and cornflower blue-eyed glory.

The tension returned ten-fold and Bucky dropped his gaze to the table with a sigh.

“Fuck.”

—

The thing was: from the very first moment Steve had walked into the Little Kingdom Bucky had been more than just a little interested in getting to know him. He was gorgeous, for one, but more than that he was _sweet_.

Before he’d even had the chance to interact with him he’d known that Steve was the sweetest thing to have ever walked through Shield’s doors. For his own sake he’d hoped he was wrong—had hoped that Steve was actually an insufferable brat. Alas, just as soon as Steve had looked up at him with those big blue eyes, and murmured in a voice wobbly and wet with tears “ _sad….alone”_ Bucky knew his assumptions were correct.

After the first day, he’d promised himself he wouldnt get attached. He loved his job, loved helping people explore and indulge in their kinks in a safe environment, loved the Little Kingdom and the space it offered a community that was considered taboo even within BDSM circles. He didn’t want to jeopardize it. Besides, he’d thought to himself, he was a professional, he’d seen any number of littles he could be compatible with come through Shield’s doors. He’d always managed to maintain an appropriate emotional distance and not get involved beyond what was necessary to ensure they had a good experience.

And then Steve had returned, and drew him that picture, and flashed him _that smile,_ and before he knew anything he’d ruffled Steve’s hair and reached out to grab Steve’s pacifier and press it between the man’s lips...without even asking, rule number one in Shield’s room monitoring handbook. Not that he’d remembered _any_ of the rules in Shield’s handbook with Steve looking up at him, the picture of innocence and _good_. All he’d known was that he needed to care for him, needed this little to be _his_ little, needed to make sure his sweet Stevie was always protected and comforted and happy.

When he’d snapped back from that troubling train of thought he’d been shocked. At himself for having disregarded Shield’s policy regarding touching patrons without confirmed consent. At the level to which Steve’s presence effected him. As soon as Steve left Bucky had put in a request to be taken off Little Kingdom duty.

 _And then_ , Thor had charged into The Dog Park and practically drug him into the hallway, explaining that there was a patron having a bad drop in the Little Kingdom and Darcy needed him. Bucky had been a bit confused—in all his time working alongside Darcy there hadn’t been a situation she hadn’t been able to handle—but he’d agreed because if he was needed to help someone then that is what he was going to do.

However, when he’d entered the room and saw Steve crumpled on the floor his heart lurched.

As Darcy’d filled him in on what she knew his entire field of vision had burned red and he’d wanted nothing more than to find the guy who had hurt Steve and break _his_ arm. Because how dare he show Steve anything besides kindness? How dare he take the gift that was Steve’s innocence, the offering that way Steve choosing to share his experience of little space, and sully it with crassness.

The rage had vibrated through him so visibly that Darcy’d gripped his wrist tightly, biting out a harsh warning:

“Control yourself, Barnes. He is going to respond to your emotions, you _know_ that.”

Later, while Steve was napping safely in his arms, he’d been hit with a wave of thoughts and emotions. Guilt at having changed rooms in the first place, and not being there when Steve needed him. Anger at the asshole who had caused Steve’s drop. Awe that Steve had asked— _cried_ —for him specifically when he needed comfort. Shock at how pet names had so easily fallen from his own lips, instinctually. Longing to hold Steve just as he was every time the man was little and, hell, maybe even when he wasn’t. Desire to know him, to know if his own feelings were real or simply an unfortunate infatuation. Conflicted about whether there could ever even be an opportunity for to know Steve, about whether his behavior, his feelings, were in some way unethical, about whether Steve—who had settled so sweetly with Bucky’s words and pets—was interested in him as well, or just comforted by his familiar presence.

He’d let Steve sleep for 40 minutes and then woken him gently, urged him up and plied him with water and snacks he’d gotten from Darcy. Steve had been shy about the whole thing, and despite how much he’d wanted to do more—to pile Steve into his jacket and escort him out of Shield, back to Bucky’s place for more after care—Bucky could only offer his best attempt at professional reassurance. And so with a light touch to the arm, and affirmation that it was nothing,and an assurance that he was happy to help he’d allowed Steve to disappear into the dressing room, change into his street wear, and leave with a demure smile and adorable little wave.

And for the rest of the week Bucky hadn’t been able to get Steve off his mind.

—

A bit of shuffling and conversation led to a chair being pulled up right next to Bucky’s, and he both thanked and cursed the gods as Steve settled down beside him and gave him that damned adorable smile, blush faint but present on his pale cheeks.

“Steve, right?” Wanda started with a bright smile, and reaching over the table to shake Steve’s hand, continued. “Im Wanda, and this is my partner Vis. Ive seen you at Shield a couple of times but its nice to meet you properly.”

“Yea, its Steve. Same to you.”

“And obviously you know everyone’s favorite monitor, Bucky” She grinned. Steve’s blush deepened and Bucky desperately wished he had a drink. He bit back his feelings and put on his best smile.

“Ah, Wanda you give me too much credit. and today Im not a monitor, remember?”

“Oh right, a rare treat. Everyone’s favorite _Daddy,_ Bucky.”

Vis cleared his throat pointedly.

“Oh you know what I mean.” Wanda rolled her eyes. “Vis and I have been together for three years, and we’ve been practicing a cgl dynamic for 2 of those.”

“Oh, wow. I don’t think I know any couples that, you know, have that-uh-dynamic.”

“Yes, well for some people play dates and play partners are preferred, but there is something special about having this with a partner, at least to me. I think its enriched our relationship, made us closer. Don’t you think so, dear?”

“I would say so, yes.” It was Bucky’s turn to roll his eyes as Wanda and Vis did the heart eyes thing that made Bucky feel uncomfortable and lonely but also happy for his friends. The moment was short and sweet, but when Wanda turned back to Steve her smile was conspiratorial.

“I only meant that seeing Bucky in his role as a dominant is uncommon, even though he’s excellent at it.”

“I wouldn’t say-“ Bucky started.

“He’s actually led several Daddy Dom info sessions and demonstrations at Shield. But he only _really_ ‘Daddy’s’ for the right person.”

“Oh god, Wanda please.” Bucky murmured..

Wanda continued, ignoring him, sly grin still in place “If he’s here as a Daddy, its about to be _some_ little’s lucky day. I wonder who?”

And then she fucking winked. If Bucky had a drink, he was certain he’d be choking on it right about now.

“Ok, Wanda, thats enough.” Vis stepped in, though hiding a smirk of his own. “Don’t mind her, Steve. She just likes to tease Bucky, we’re all old friends.”

The thing thing was: Wanda was right. Bucky is a good Dom, and an even better Daddy. Most of the patrons at Shield loved him and he got great feedback from those who attended the demonstrations he led. But it was rare for him to give himself over fully to the role. Five years ago he’d done so happily, picking up play partners here and there, learning himself and developing an approach to dominance that he enjoyed and that was enjoyable for his partners. And he’d loved taking on the role of Daddy Dom to a sweet little, but eventually he’d decided he didn’t want to continue with the casual encounters.

Ultimately, Buckywanted something comfortable, someone he could get to know and see himself being with for a longer term. Someone he could have established scenes with, and could also date and be in a relationship with. Someone who was into CG/l for the same reasons he was, who would tolerate the subtle bleed through that happened outside of scenes, who would appreciate his desire to caretake as a Daddy and as a partner. So he’d become selective about his partners, with the hope that he’d find someone he was truly compatible with.

At this point, It had likely been upwards of a year since he’d felt compelled to pursue a little of his own, since he’d embodied _Daddy_ for himself and his partner, instead of for work or educational purposes, since he’d really _wanted_ to.

There was no denying that he wanted to, for Steve. He could feel the rightness of it in his bones, the same knowing that had assured him at first glance that Steve was a total sweetheart. He knew Wanda could see it—even before he’d vented to her and Vis about it—and he felt unbearably embarrassed to be so gone and to be called on it _in front of the person he was gone for._

Steve spoke up, peering over at him beneath his beautiful long lashes. “Well, um, for what its worth… I- I agree. I do think your little would be.. very lucky.”

The sincerity of Steve’s bashful declaration washed away Bucky’s annoyance at Wanda’s teasing. He found himself caught up once again in the blue sea of those eyes. Gazing back at Steve he wondered if what the man really meant was that _he_ would feel lucky to be Bucky’s little and he couldn’t help but consider how lucky he himself would feel to be trusted as Steve’s Daddy.

Ignoring Vis and Wanda’s knowing smiles in his periphery, Bucky countered in a soft rumble. “I think having someone share something so precious with me would make me the lucky one.”

Steve’s breath hitched just the slightest, blush extending to the tips of his ears now. There was the feeling, the rightness. Bucky couldn’t resist a smile.

Then their server arrived, breaking the moment with a request for drink orders.

—

After the initial bout of teasing, Wanda relented and brunch continued casually. Being at the end of the table, the four of them settled into their own small group conversation. Wanda and Vis just barely managed to avoid pelting Steve with questions, and Bucky finally got his mimosa.

Bucky learned that Steve was from the city—Brooklyn—and an artist. He worked mainly as a freelancer and most of his commissions were for comics, but he he was really passionate about figure studies and capturing the life and movement of human bodies. His eyes shone when he spoke about his art and Bucky was hopelessly endeared to him.

When their food arrived—a burger for Bucky, a salad for Vis, an omelette for Wanda, and strawberry banana pancakes for Steve—Bucky smirked.

Something had changed for Bucky between their earlier interaction and now. The uncertainty and self-imposed limitations he’d place on himself were lighter. He wanted to be Steve’s Daddy, or to at least discuss it, and his certainty that Steve wanted that as well had grown. They’d both ended up at this munch in a way that could only be described as serendipitous, and Bucky was going to take his chance, since it was laid out before him so ripe for the taking.

“Fitting you’d get the sweetest thing on the menu.” He murmured, voice carefully low to avoid Wanda’s listening ears.

“I—uh—what? What do you mean?”

“It suits you, thats all. Sweet things for a sweet thing.” 

Steve sputtered.

“That ok?” Bucky asked.

“Yea. I…I like it.” Steve admitted, pushing the strawberries around on his plate. And then, “Um—I…I like all the things you call me. Called me..last week.”

Bucky paused, fry mid-way to his mouth.

“Hm.” He started, feigning casualness. “Like them in general?” 

Steve turned those striking baby blues on him, biting his lip in a way that on anyone else would be considered an attempt at seduction, but on Steve was so obviously an innocent display of apprehension. Adorable.

“Like them….from you.”

Warmth bloomed in Bucky’s chest, warming him just as thoroughly as the sun on his face. His hand itched to reach out and stroke the soft skin of Steve’s cheek, but he refrained. Settled instead for pressing his knee against Steve’s under the table, and offering a smile, openly fond and thoroughly smitten.

“Good to know.”

—

As the Bruch wound down, the server making rounds to collect emptied plates, Wanda darted off the the bathroom and Vis stepped out to take a phone call. Alone at their end of the table with Steve, Bucky reclined in his seat, stretching his legs and finally breaking the contact between them after having maintained it throughout the meal.

Surprisingly, Steve seemed to deflate at the loss. Not much, just a slight drawing into himself, pulling his legs in from where they’d been spread so his knee could press back into Bucky’s. Folding his hands in his lap and fiddling with his fingers. Bucky tsked and slung one arm over the back of Steve’s chair.

“Better?” He asked and, finally giving in to his urge to touch Steve skin, stroked the pad of his thumb lightly over the back of Steve’s neck.

“Better..?”

Bucky smirked, and knocked his knee against Steve’s again, resting there for a moment before taking it away. Steve had the same minuscule reaction, drawing into himself at the loss of contact.

“Seems like you don’t like that.” Bucky commented with a raised eyebrow. Steve blushed. Bucky stroked his neck with the thumb still by his nape. “So, better?”

Steve just nodded.

“How was your week? Did you shake off the last of the drop ok?”

“I—yea I think so. I went to bed pretty much as soon as I got home but.. I read about it some when I woke up. I think..I think I avoided the worst of it. Or at least I dont think it lasted past that night.”

“Thats good. I was worried about you.”

“You?…were?”

“I was.”

“Do you…do you worry about all the patrons?”

Bucky chuckled and ran his fingers softly through the hairs at the nape of Steve’s neck, noticing the way Steve angled his head to give better access.

“Im concerned about their experiences at Shield, I want to make sure they feel comfortable. If someone gets hurt or has a bad drop, I do worry, hope they recover alright.” He started lightly. Dropping to a softer tone he added, “But if you’re asking whether I worry about them the same way I worried about you…the answer is no. Don’t usually want to take them home with me so I can watch over ‘em myself.”

Steve gasped, blinking up at Bucky. “You…you wanted to watch over me?”

“Still do, sugar.” He murmured. “If thats what you want. Plenty of caregiver's out there. Good ones, too. You don’t owe me anything because we’ve connected at Shield or because I work there. But you’re something special, sweetheart. I’d be honored to look after you if thats what you wanted.”

“I—I..” Steve’s still staring up at him, nearly unblinking. “I do. I- I want that.”

“How about we finish up here, and go grab a coffee?”

Steve nodded and Bucky smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am I terribly sorry that this chapter is both late and short? yes. yes I am.
> 
> leave comments, lmk what you think!


End file.
